


A Call To Arms

by dorkpatroller



Category: Fire Emblem: If | Fire Emblem: Fates, Fire Emblem: Kakusei | Fire Emblem: Awakening
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Brady's Nohrian name is Evans, Commission fic, Gen, Happy Ending, Heirs of Fate DLC, M/M, Realm Hopping, Time Travel, and he's one of elise's retainers, and his name is evans there, au where brady went to nohr with the awakening trio, remember that - Freeform, spoilers for basically everything pertaining to awakening and fates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-10
Updated: 2017-06-10
Packaged: 2018-11-08 18:30:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,959
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11087463
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dorkpatroller/pseuds/dorkpatroller
Summary: Ophelia is faced with battling her own parents and with saving her world. Knowing she can't possibly defeat the Chosen Ones on her own, she travels to another time to seek help from their past selves.Heirs of Fate AU





	A Call To Arms

**Author's Note:**

  * For [iavenjqasdf](https://archiveofourown.org/users/iavenjqasdf/gifts).



> This is a commission I did for a friend and it was SO much fun because I just love Ophelia so much ahhh. Anyway, it's a little canon divergent from Heirs of Fate but not too terribly so. Au where Brady went to Nohr with the awakening trio and stood in as Elise's retainer instead of Arthur. His Nohrian name is Evans.

The dark sky flashes with light when she arrives. It’s like lightning cracking across the horizon, but it comes without a clap of thunder. Ophelia couldn’t say what time of day it was when she left Valla, but she knows with great certainty that it is dusk here and now. A fitting time for her to arrive, she thinks.

She looks at the crystal her father gave her where it sits in the palm of her hand. It once shined with life and magic, but now it has been used up. It’s dull and very  _ unspectacular _ . She’s called it her  _ Starshine Quartz  _ for so long now, but she knows its true name now: a translocation stone. Tucked into a pouch on her hip there is another stone. It belonged to her new friend, Soleil, but she gave it to Ophelia’s cause. That one still brims with magic, Ophelia can sense it. This one is no more than a rock, now. She might cast it aside if it wasn’t the last thing her father gave her.

She can remember it like it was just moments ago. Her father, her hero, Odin Dark. He curled the stone into her hand and squeezed it tight.  _ Make haste, Ophelia, and worry not! We will follow close behind you.  _ She can still hear the promise in his voice. She can also remember vividly the sight, looking over her shoulder, of her parents being surrounded. They were unwavering! They stood together so strong, but… Well, of course, she has her doubts. She knows now that the terrible dragon who has collapsed worlds may have her parents, and may have turned them into puppets as he has with many others.

None of them are ready to fight their own parents. How can they? Their parents are so much stronger, so much smarter, than they are. They are only just children. Ophelia can’t imagine it; there’s no way she can do it. There’s no way  _ anyone _ can defeat the Chosen Ones. Odin and Evans are ethereal heroes! It can’t be done.

Not without help, that is. Ophelia came here to find that help. Her parents told her  _ very  _ little about their homeland. Only that they once lived by different names, and in a little cabin at the edge of the woods. Which woods? Which names? Ophelia has next to nothing to guide her. She follows her instinct down a path, however, and it sounds like the stories her parents told. A red dirt road lined with wildflowers and onion grass. She comes upon a house with a large window. It looks out upon the woods and trees and a small little pond surrounded by rocks.

It sounds like the stories Papa used to tell of their first home. He always said one day they may take her back there. Ophelia rushes up a step to the door, and she knocks three times rather quickly. This must be it. Her instinct can’t be wrong, she’s found them.

Coming back to the world her parents hail from would do no good, of course. They wouldn’t be there. Ophelia knows that just as well as anyone. She also knows that without help she is never going to defeat the chosen ones in battle on her own. She needs help, and who better to help than the chosen two themselves? Ophelia has traveled not just through space, but through time to get here. With luck, she’ll meet her parents at an age not far from her own. The age they were before they ever left Ylisse to visit Nohr.

The door opens wide and Ophelia is nearly too amazed to speak. It’s Evans. Well, it will one day  _ be  _ Evans. This is not Evans. This is… well, if memory serves, she thinks her papa once told her his given name was Brady. He’s so much younger. Father and Papa, they raised her in the deep realm, they grew with her, and so her parents are twice her age. This boy is hardly a few years older than she is. Ophelia swallows. Brady cocks up an eyebrow. “Hello?”

“S-Salutations! I am Ophelia Dusk, your humble offspring, on a bold and hopeful quest to gather aid. I’ve traversed farther than you can imagine to seek you out: I’ve swam through the very waters of time!” It’s pretty good. She rehearsed it a little on the way here, but her nerve is a little too weak now that she’s standing in front of him. Brady. Her someday-Papa. She clears her throat. His brow stays up a bit too high.

“Yer what, now?” He asks. Ophelia’s breath leaves her at once. Oh, he sounds so much the same. This is truly the same man, even if he’s not quite what she expected. His hair, for example, isn’t the same shade of blonde she’s used to. His eyes seem less grey. Did her parents alter their appearances? That’s so  _ cool!  _

“I apologize, my way of speaking can be a bit complex for some,” She begins, but Brady shakes his head and waves his hand.

“Oh no, I got what yer sayin’. I’m just doubtin’ it.” He tilts his head to one side. “Since, ya know, I don’t really have any kids.”

“Ah, of course you understood me so easily. No doubt because you are Chosen,” Ophelia folds her arms. Yes, this can only be a good sign. “What I mean to say is I have come from a distant future, and… oh!”

Oh! Owain! He looks so strange. He’s so young, no lines by his eyes where he smiles wide and his hair is so dark, it’s brown! He is certainly not the hero that is Odin Dark, but it is a start.

There they are. Side by side, standing in the doorway, it’s really them! Brady looks skeptical and Owain looks confused. Like he’s about to ask who she is. Who is she? Ophelia Dusk, of course, but that’s only a name. She pulls her fists close to her chest. Owain and Brady look very natural together. They live together, after all. They’re probably in love, surely, if they have a home together. They look a great deal like her parents, but…

The way they  _ look  _ at her is nothing like her parents. There is something very strangely empty about the way their eyes settle on her. She is, she supposes, nothing but a stranger to them. She isn’t their little girl.

A sob catches in her throat and she covers her mouth to hide it. Of course, she’s too late to stop herself from crying. She had no idea it had happened until she hears Owain whisper, “What did you do to her?” Brady elbows him. Ophelia can see that it is hardly enough force to hurt, but Owain makes a noise like it might have. Is it playful?

“I’m sorry,” Ophelia says. She reaches up and swipes away any tears with her fingertips. She must look like a crazy person, standing at the door crying and claiming to be their child. “L-Let me try again, please? My name is Ophelia, and,” but before she can continue Brady shakes his head.

Oh no. What if he casts her aside? It never struck her as a possibility. Perhaps she assumed her parents would see her and know, right away, she was connected to them? She bites her lip. Brady says, “Come inside. We’ll get ya some tea. It’s kinda chilly out.”

A weight lifts off Ophelia’s chest and she nods her head. Brady backs away from the door to go make the tea and Owain gestures inside. She takes a step in and watches him shut the door.

It’s so strange, she thinks, to see the men she idolizes the very most look like mere boys. “Thank you,” She says in a voice too timid for her normal self. Owain shrugs. He takes a moment to stare at he. She supposes he can’t help it. She isn’t dressed in clothes familiar to Ylisse, certainly, and even more so she is claiming to be his daughter.

He looks at her and she admires his face. His eyes seem brighter green than Odin’s. She’s sure now that they changed the color of their hair and their eyes. She’s not sure  _ why  _ . His face has light, scattered freckles just the same as hers. His ears aren’t pierced, she notices. Perhaps he does that later in life.

“I’m Owain,” He says. He introduces himself! Ophelia smiles at him. She knows his name is Owain, but she appreciates the gesture just the same.

“Owain Dark!” She clarifies, for him. “A blooming hero, destined to be written in the stars. I am honored to meet you. I am Ophelia Dusk.”

For a moment Ophelia wonders if he thinks she’s making fun of him. She’s very genuine! Thankfully his lips curl up into a smile and he nods his head. “This way,” He says, and he leads her to the sitting area. There are a few chairs and a small table in front of them perfect for tea and books. It’s a little smaller than their home in the deep realm. Their home there has always been big enough for three, after all. This is small. A first home for new lovers.

It’s exhilarating to take in so much about her parents’ pasts. Ophelia takes a seat and folds her hands in her lap. It’s incredible to be here, yes, but also scary. It’s  _ very _ scary to know nothing about anyone or anything. Was this how her parents felt when they arrived in Nohr? Oh, she wishes she had pressed them for more details about that time of their lives.

Brady comes back with a tray. The teapot on it is steaming and it smells familiar enough. He sets it down and she notices there’s only two cups. She bites her lip. He did say he wanted to share the tea with her, right? She looks at him warily but he passes a cup and saucer towards her, and he pours her drink.

“But..?” She begins. Owain sits at the table but no cup is passed his way. Maybe he understands her confusion?

“Herbal nectars can interrupt my slumber,” He says. Ophelia nods her head and makes an ‘oh’ noise, but she still wrinkles her brow.

Her father drinks tea at bed time all the time, back home. “I had no idea it kept you up at night,” she admits.

Brady shrugs at her. “I keep tryin’a come up with a blend that won’t keep him up. Here, there’s some sugar here for you.” He pushes forward a sugar bowl and Ophelia looks at it contemplatively. She doesn’t like tea with sugar. Evans always brings her milk and honey for her tea. Of course, Brady is  _ not  _ Evans. Brady is just Brady. He’s hardly any older than she is and he’s not a father, and certainly not her father, so why should he know what sort of tea she prefers to drink? She brings the cup to her lips and takes a sip.

Oh, no, it’s too bitter. It needs the milk and honey. Ophelia does her best not to make a face and she holds the teacup in her hand. It’s warm, at least. That is soothing, even if she’s not sure what to do. It would be rude to ask for milk or honey. Brady offered her tea so sweetly and she should accept it as is, right? She bites the inside of her cheek. She needs to drink the tea without. That is the polite thing to do.

Just as she’s come to this decision, however, Brady stands up and leaves. “Oh, I,” She blurts, but he’s only gone for a moment. When he comes back it’s with  _ exactly  _ those two things she wants. He sets them in front of her and she looks at him with wonder. “How did you..?”

“I guess ya did say yer Owain’s daughter…” Brady looks a little uncomfortable when he’s saying it, but if he’s bothered Ophelia doesn’t take the time to ask. She’s amazed! Brady saw through her as if she were transparent and he knew just what she needed!

It makes her miss Evans all that much more. “I should explain myself a little better,” She says. Once her tea is made the way she likes it and once she has had a few sips, that is. She has to find a way to explain everything, but… well she was warned that she might fade from existence entirely if she were to speak of Valla outside of its borders.

“I come from a different time, but also a different country. I-In fact, within that country I came from a certain special… realm. M-My parents’ names are Odin and Evans. I know those aren’t  _ your  _ names, but I can assure you they are the same.”

She fiddles with her hands in her lap. “My parents raised me in a little cabin with a field behind it. They taught me spells and how to cut wood and how to use my natural talents. Then, only a few weeks ago, someone attacked our home village. The raid made its way beyond the town. Invisible enemies! They glistened like ice!

“I was going to stand and fight to protect my home, of course, but Father and Papa took me aside. They gave me my Starshine Quartz and told me to run away. They were meant to follow but they never did…”

Both of them are paying attention to her. Raptly even. Ophelia is happy they’re, in the very least, listening to her situation. She swallows a knot in her throat when she thinks about her parents, alone in the deep realm. They sent her ahead and they stood and fought until the very souls may have been ripped from their bodies. She bites her lip.

“Ophelia..?” Brady prompts her to speak again and Ophelia’s voice only cracks  a little when she continues.

“My parents were two of many whose bodies are likely now being used to fight in a war they don’t belong in. They’re being controlled; it’s not really them, but I..! I can’t say much more about it. I came here because I know that the Chosen Ones, the  _ Chosen Duo  _ will never be defeated easily. I’m confident I can’t do it alone. I need help… and how better to fight fire with fire than to seek help from the same great men?”

“Erm,” Brady clears his throat. He looks skeptical but Ophelia has never known her Papa to take a situation lightly and so she hopes that to be a good sign.

“That’s the  _ coolest  _ story I’ve ever heard,” Owain adds. Ophelia’s heart sinks. Story? How can he say that? It’s all true! Her parents are in danger, her world is at risk, and she needs  _ help  _ .

“I’m telling the truth!” Her voice sounds nearly as desperate as she feels. She looks at her hands in her lap again. She’s not sure how to drive her point home… but then she notices the darker patch of skin on her forearm. It’s almost a birthmark. She remembers that Odin once told her he had it, that they passed through their family to mark them as such. It is her birthright. 

She can think of no better use of it than, perhaps, to prove her own point. “Here, see?” She asks. She extends her arm. “Father once said that this is  _ irrefutable _ evidence of our lineage,” Oh, what else did he say? “The blood of heroes who died to protect him!”

Sure enough, Owain reaches out and grasps her arm. He pulls it closer and she watches him examine the mark.

Owain and Brady share a look. Ophelia watches very carefully. She’s seen this look before. Owain glances at Brady and they lock eyes and a whole conversation is shared between them in complete silence. How do they do it? When will she learn? Her parents communicate like this all the time… is it telepathy?

They both look concerned. “I,” Ophelia stutters, “I need help. I want to save my parents, and my whole future.”

Brady pinches the bridge of his nose. Uh oh, Ophelia knows that look. She wrings her hands nervously in her lap. Eventually Brady sighs. “Maybe we ought to talk to Ma about this tomorrow.”

Oh? Ophelia almost lights up. “I’ve never met her!” Obviously, because she lives in another world. But she thinks Brady looks startled. Maybe he didn’t mean to take her with them? She blushes. She’s never felt this shy in front of her parents. It’s strange to feel so awkward in front of these two.

“Right. Well it’s too late to go see ‘er now. It’s dark out.” Brady says. He nods at Owain and then he stands up in a shuffle of robes to take the empty cups back to their kitchen.

“Of course,” Ophelia says. She wonders what she’s going to do. She hasn’t planned to stay long term, and she didn’t even think about where she might stay if they didn’t want her here. She just assumed her parents would say ‘of course we’ll help’ and jump at the chance to help their daughter. Of course, now it seems like a silly thing to think. Why should they risk their lives for a perfect stranger?

“Ophelia Dusk!” Her head snaps up to the sound of Owain’s voice beckoning to her. “Come, this way,” he says. Ophelia stands up and follows. She hardly even thinks to question it. Owain is just Owain, but he has the voice of her father, and  _ Odin  _ would never lead her astray. They end up in the hallway, in front of a tiny hole in the wall cupboard.

He reaches in and pulls out a few quilts and then drops them in her arms somewhat unexpectedly… and he smiles at her. “It gets kind of chilly in the front room at night because of that big window, but if we leave the fire smoldering you should be warm enough there.”

Ophelia gasps. Owain dips his head. “Sorry,” he says, “I know it’s not much, but we don’t have a spare bedroom right now.” He’s not quite Odin. His face is too young, his body is still a little bit too wiry. With age, no doubt, that will change. Still, she looks up at him with nothing but admiration in that moment. He isn’t sending her away.

“Thank you so much!” She’s so happy they’re letting her stay! She’s so happy they trust her enough not to throw her out in the cold. She should have never doubted in the hospitality of her parents. They raised her better.

It’s not exactly comfortable on the floor in front of the fireplace but she doesn’t mind. Ophelia lays a quilt on the floor and two over her. She uses a cushion from the chair to lay her head on. This is perfect. The fire is plenty to keep her warm and the sound of Brady and Owain whispering about her in the other room is actually somewhat comforting. She’s certain they’re skeptical about her, but she can’t be bothered by it. She half-way loves them, and with their voices low and distant she can almost pretend she’s nestled up in bed at home.

…

Sleep doesn’t come easily. Ophelia’s dreams are riddled with disaster. Then, towards the morning, riddled with images of her loving parents. She’s weary and startled when she hears noise in the room she’s occupying. Specifically a clopping sound. She could swear it’s Sophie’s chaos-imbued horse stomping around on the hardwood. Instead it’s Owain’s boots. She realizes it upon turning onto her side and blearily blinking up at him.

He’s seated on the sofa and he’s lacing up the boots one at a time. Ophelia opens up her mouth and speaks in a soft, morning voice. “Mn… Mornin’ father… where are you going?”

Owain raises his brow in her direction, and he laughs something akin to a nervous chuckle. “Um, just ‘Owain’ is fine, I think.”

Oh. Ophelia blushes and sits up to face him properly. She’s about to apologize but he doesn’t let her. Instead, he keeps talking, to answer her question no doubt. He says, “I go out to spar in the mornings. I didn’t mean to wake you up. It’s just part of my routine. The light of morning is-“

“-The most empowering light of day!” Ophelia finishes. She’s straightening her hair and clothes just a bit from her sleep. Owain is looking right at her, and for a moment Ophelia wonders if she accidentally offended him again.

“Yeah! Um, how did you know what I was going to say?” He asks. He starts lacing his other boot. Ophelia breathes out a sigh of relief. The last thing she needs to do is annoy her parents, after all. What if they hate her and decide never to have her? She tries to perish the thought.

“You say it every time you make me spar with you. You said grandfather taught you that saying.”

“Oh,” Owain says. He looks at her a bit longer, but then he laughs and shakes his head. “Um, yeah. My dad taught me.”

“So you’re going out to spar right now?” She knows he is, he just said it. “Please! May I join you? I would be honored and humbled to watch you practice with your mighty blade.”

Ophelia has always known her father to be a generous man so it is hardly a surprise when he nods his head and holds the door for her. “Alright. Be warned! If my power becomes too much it may become impossible to look away! The consequences may be dire.”

To say she is eager to see him train is an understatement. He’s so  _ cool _ . There’s nothing special about the training blade. In fact, it’s not a sword at all. It’s a bunch of bamboo reeds tied together with fronds just so to create a swordlike ‘weapon.’ What is special is the way he  _ wields it  _ . The training dummy is nothing against him!

Ophelia sits not far from him. Just enough space that she shouldn’t interrupt his routine but close enough she can see the twitch of his fingers while he swings the ‘blade’. Ophelia has seen her father train countless times, but something seems a little off. What is it that makes Owain’s training so different?

_ Ah,  _ Ophelia realizes, it’s because of her. She gets to her feet and brings up her hands to cup her mouth. “Owain! Why are you holding back?” She shouts. He stops. He turns to look at her over his shoulder incredulously, but the guilt in his expression is obvious. She cannot be fooled.

“What are you talking about?” He asks anyway. He lowers the training sword and she approaches. Once she’s in front of him she throws up her arms. Owain’s confusion shifts into amusement. A habit she picked up from Evans, so no doubt Brady does the same thing.

“Where is the spark? Odin Dark is a man of character! He holds out his hand and flicks his wrist and beckons lightning to announce his presence!” She moves her body while she talks, strikes a familiar stance of her father’s and even mocks him with a tiny sparkler of magic from her hand.

Owain looks pretty interested, to say the least, and Ophelia knows better than to leave an audience hanging… especially when said audience will one day be the teacher. She smiles bright and asks “Where are your special attack names? Where is your flair? Perhaps you are too young to call forth  _ Eldritch Smackdown _ , but I refuse to believe you know  _ nothing _ .”

She knows he was this age, perhaps younger, when he took up the blade and took up his passion for theatrics. She spreads her feet apart and shifts her hand. This should help, right? Odin taught her this pose but made her promise to use it quite wisely, for her brand gave it much power. This is a wise use of it, she is sure. Her hand splays in front of her face and her weight shifts to one side and she asks “Does your sword hand not hunger for battle?”

Ophelia is not embarrassed, even with Owain staring at her like she’s halfway to being committed. Her father didn’t raise her to be shy about herself or her beliefs. He raised her to take pride in who she is! Surely he takes his own advice. She’s rewarded for her efforts. Only a handful of seconds after she asks her question, he flashes her a big grin and steps forward. She’s startled, momentarily, by the way he takes her elbow and uses it to adjust the position of her arm. Then he reaches out and shows her how to curl her fingers.

“If you’re going to imitate greatness, you’d best do it right,” He explains. She’s almost giddy about it. “Alright, Ophelia Dusk: I thought I should hold back, lest my raw power drive you to blindness—or worse! Now I see you have been tempered to withstand and even challenge my darkness. Take that sword there, we’ll battle!”

Ophelia follows his line of sight. Using his practice blade he points to another training sword. That one, however, is metal. It’s slim and quite frankly looks lighter than the blade he has, but concern washes over her momentarily. What if she cuts him?

Ha! She, Ophelia, lay a hit on her father? It’s impossible, she realizes, and so she runs a few steps to pick up the sword. Oh, it’s heavier than she expects. She’s not sure that she’s ever held a real sword before. Perhaps only to carry, but never to wield.

She doesn’t care. She brings the sword back to where she was and she holds it in both hands in front of her. Her feet are spread shoulder width apart and she narrows her eyes like she might even stand a chance. She’s never sparred with a sword but she  _ has  _ seen her father do it several times. And she’s seen Owain practice for a while today, as well! She’s sure she can handle this.

Thankfully he is merciful. He comes at her slow and gives her ample time to reflexively block his blows. She’s not sure why he’s babying her, maybe it’s obvious she has no idea what she’s doing, but she’s excited nevertheless. The spark he was missing before is twinkling in his eye and booming in his voice. The lightning may not crackle at his fingertips but his sword splits the air like thunder.

She is truly in awe of him. How can he be so cool so young? Barely older than she is, yet surely he is twice as magnificent. It is no wonder he is a Chosen One, really. Needless to say he defeats her easily, and when he does he laughs. “So,” He begins, “How is it that my own daughter can’t use a sword to save her life?”

He is close to her, very, and she realizes belatedly that he is making to correct her stance. Ophelia catches her breath and looks down where he kicks her foot into the position he wants it to be in, gently, and then her smile brightens.

“Odin Dark laid his sword hand to rest and took up dark magic,” Ophelia answers. She tightens her grip on the sword while Owain takes a defensive position.

“Okay,” he says, “Come at me with your sword.”

She follows the direction and runs a step forward, and she means to bring the weapon down over his head. Instead he lifts the bamboo sword and blocks her, effortlessly. She should have known, she supposes. “My father,” She grunts while she tries to swing at him from the left instead. That goes about as successfully as the first attempt, “Taught me proficiency in dark arts and; oh!”

_ Oh _ . Somehow the sword is knocked clean from her hands. How did he do that, with just a bundle of sticks? Owain is amazing. It’s no wonder he grows into such an awe-inspiring hero. “It’s plain to see that you are just as incredible as he is.”

“Aha!” He calls, “I have soundly defeated you. Twice. We should head back inside for breakfast. And you! You should tell me more about how awesome I am. Dark magic? That’s so  _ cool!”  _

“Yes,” Ophelia agrees, and she clasps her hands together. “You are.”

…

“Holy wow!” Lissa is excited the moment she lays eyes on Ophelia. She just takes to her rather quickly, and Ophelia… well she takes to Lissa, too. They’re very similar in appearance, it seems, but Ophelia just loves the way Lissa talks. It’s reminiscent of how her father speaks in his less dramatic moments. It’s sort of comforting to hear.

“Oh, she looks identical to you darling,” Maribelle says to Lissa. She steps closer to Ophelia and tilts up her chin with a delicate, gloved hand. Ophelia would like to be friendly with Maribelle right away as well… but she finds herself sucking in her gut and standing taller and hoping to impress her more than she hopes to befriend her. She wants to be exactly the grandchild they always dreamed of…. Even if they are meeting her far too soon.

Or perhaps this is the only chance she may ever have to meet them? Her parents never did say they wanted to return to Ylisse. Ophelia has always been under the impression that they would always live in the deep realm, or at the very least they would one day live in Nohr.

“Yeah, she looks a lot like Owain, too,” Brady says from her right. It sounds a little less excited than her grandmother and Ophelia bites her lip. She’s worried. Brady seems a little distant from her and that’s the last thing she wants. She has always been more inclined to imitate Odin, of course, but Evans has always been such an important part of her life. She closes her eyes briefly. She can recall all the times she has had him there to soothe a wound or the times when he would lay in bed with her while she was sick. She misses him. She finds comfort in Owain because he is loud and like Odin but Brady isn’t like Evans, right now. He doesn’t treat her at all the same and it’s… scary. It fills her with swirls of self-doubt. Will he grow to trust her?

“My name is Ophelia Dusk,” She introduces herself to Maribelle and Lissa. “It is an honor and a pleasure to meet you both!” Not that she has to introduce herself, Owain and Brady sort of did that for her, but Evans always said it was polite to introduce yourself anyway.

She’s still nervous and under Maribelle’s scrutiny when Maribelle asks her a question. “How did you manage to come from the future, or another world, or whatever it is you’re suggesting?”

Ophelia clears her throat. “My parents gave me a special gemstone to guide me to their home, just in case they didn’t…” Well, in case they didn’t make it. They probably wanted Ophelia to use its magic to safely escape. Ophelia chose to use its magic to help restore them to her. She realizes a moment too late that she’s trailed off, and she sputters. “Oh, I’m sorry, Grandmother, I lost track of what I was saying.”

“You have such a lovely way of speaking, like a proper lady,” Maribelle smiles and lets go of Ophelia’s chin. Ophelia drops her head back to a comfortable position and mirrors the smile. Is that a compliment? It sounds suspiciously like a compliment. Instead Maribelle casually smirks at her son. “I’m so proud of you for raising a little girl instead of a boar.”

Brady blanches. Ophelia covers her mouth to giggle. She knows very little about her grandmother, only that what she just said sounds exactly like the stories Evans has told her. She means it with love, of course, and so she doesn’t think to be offended. Brady scoffs. “Yeah, well, I ain’t the one who raised her.”

Ophelia tries her best not to let her smile turn disheartened. Brady certainly is skeptical about her. She’s aware. It just hurts. She misses the familiarity of Evans, of his smiles and of the way he calls her ‘Ophie’ and how he likes to kiss her forehead. Of course, she expects none of that from Brady, but he could, at the very least, not look at her like she’s a puzzle box.

Lissa is fawning over Ophelia’s brand while Brady slips a few steps away to talk with his mother. He’s not facing Ophelia, and he’s talking low, but she’s always been keen at eavesdropping and so she has no trouble listening in.

“I understand your concerns, of course, darling,” Maribelle says. Her voice is soft, calm. She’s not judgmental the way she was previously. She reaches out and puts her hand on her son’s shoulder. “I was skeptical when you showed up to see me, after all.”

Where did he show up from? Ophelia has only just noticed that Lissa and Maribelle do appear to be quite young to have grown children. Perhaps, she wonders, they were also raised in deep realms. Then again, neither Odin or Evans ever mentioned that.

“Skeptical is sort of an understatement, Ma, it don’t even make sense.” Brady hisses. Lissa’s giggle overlaps with it. Ophelia turns her head to smile at her grandmother.

“Have you ever considered wearing pigtails? I bet you’d look just like me!” Lissa claps her hands together. Ophelia nods her head.

“Yes,” She answers, “Sometimes I do. But I think it makes Father homesick, and so I don’t wear my hair that way often.”

“Well, she has the brand, dear, what more proof do you need?” Maribelle asks Brady. Ophelia almost misses the question. She does have the brand. That is proof! Odin said so himself!

“All that proves is that she’s Owain’s kid, it doesn’t make her  _ mine  _ .” Brady mutters. Lissa bites her lip. Ophelia glances at her, and she’s surprised by the sympathetic look on her face. Does she know that Ophelia is listening in? If she does, she’s keeping it a secret, for her.

Ophelia is heartbroken. Not that Brady doesn’t believe her right away… because surely something like this is a shock. More because she knows that she has no more proof to give.

_ “I love you, Papa!” Ophelia calls. She runs forward and into his embrace. She throws her arms around his neck and Evans snakes his arms around her middle. Oh, he squeezes her so tight.  _

_ “I was startin’ to wonder if I’d ever see the likes a’ you two again. A week is too long!” He says, he kisses the top of her head, and when he finally lets her out of his hug he pushes her back to examine her. “I guess yer all in one piece anyway. Hm… something’s different. Did ya get taller?”  _

_ “No,” Ophelia giggles. She rocks on her heels. “Try again.”  _

_ “Hm… did ya cut yer hair?”  _

_ Ophelia shakes her head.  _

_ “Oooooh, I see it now,” Evans hums. “Ya learned a new spell, didn’t you? So whatterya doing just standing here? Show it to me!”  _

_ Ophelia bounces in place, vibrating in her excitement. She grabs him by the hand and pulls him into the clearing in front of the house. “Prepare yourself, dearest Papa, for what you see may truly amaze you beyond anything you’ve seen before! Today I will show you my newest, most powerful technique… The Luminary Uppercut!”  _

“Hey,” Ophelia blinks. What? She must have zoned out for a moment. She turns her head to chase the sound of the voice. Father. No—Owain.

“What?” she asks, “I apologize, Owain, I was lost in thought.”

“I could sort of tell. I was going to ask if something’s bothering you.” Owain is worried about her. It’s sweet. If he does it out of genuine kindness or genuine pity, Ophelia doesn’t care. She loves him for it all the same. There’s no doubt in her mind that he believes her story. Or, well, there isn’t  _ much  _ doubt.

She glances at Brady and Maribelle again. “Perhaps you would relax if you played a bit,” Maribelle suggests. Ophelia thinks it’s a lovely idea. Playing music always seems to relax Evans, anyway. Maybe because he’s drawn out of the real world and into the world the songs create. Notes woven together like a spell to help the listener envision a world of wonder, chaos, beauty, or sorrow.

“I dunno, Ma,” Brady says. His voice drops a bit more. Does he notice Ophelia listening in? She certainly hopes not; the last thing she needs is for Brady to think she’s a  _ nosy _ liar. Ophelia supposes if she’s caught, she may as well speak up.

“Grandmother?” Ophelia asks, softly. Is she allowed to call Maribelle that? If she’s at all bothered by it, Maribelle says nothing. She turns to look over her shoulder and she smiles politely.

“Yes, dear?” She asks. Ophelia swallows a tiny knot in her throat.

“If you would like some music, I would be happy to play for you, and for Brady.” Ophelia is sure that music can help. It always works, even when tea doesn’t. Brady looks so anxious, like he’s a pulsing bomb of magic just waiting to detonate. Ophelia feels just the same… but if there is anything she can do to ease Brady’s stress, she is quite sure it will help ease her own.

“That sounds lovely. Do you play the violin?” Maribelle asks her. Ophelia brightens and nods her head.

“My Papa taught me. I prefer to play the cello. We perform duets together, sometimes in town we play to provide ambiance to the thrilling tales that Father tells. It’s very fun,” She blushes just slightly. Does she sound childish? She loves to play. Maribelle examines her a bit more thoroughly… but then she nods her head and steps away to fetch the violin.

When it is in her arms, Ophelia wonders momentarily what to play. She is by no means as talented as her Papa, especially when this isn’t her preferred instrument, but… it doesn’t take her long to decide. Maribelle and Brady sit at a table, joined by Owain and Lissa, and they are enjoying some tea. Ophelia thinks of home.

Papa, she knows, usually enjoys it when she plays arrangements that his mother taught him. She thinks he loves those the most because they remind him of home. Right now, she thinks, they remind her of him so badly… she is also reminded of home. Ophelia misses home more than anything.

She closes her eyes and begins to play. The strings are tuned properly and she’s glad. The melody is simple at first. Slow and steady, it builds into a peaceful tune. But then as it progresses, her fingertips shift. She plucks at strings to form more staccato notes, she glosses over the strings for slurs.

It reminds her of Papa, of course. With her eyes closed and her body swaying only slightly to keep time with the music, she is reminded of the way he will sit at their dining table and listen. He holds his face in one hand with his elbow propped on the table. Here or there he may correct her on a note or the articulation of it. Mostly he smiles at her over his cup of tea, steaming and warm. Evans loves her so much. He hums along with her playing. He tells her she’s wonderful. He smiles at her.

She peeks her eyes open shortly after that. Brady is not Evans, she continues to remind herself… but he does smile at her over the top of his cup of tea. He looks flabbergasted… but happy. She can almost hear Evans in her head.  _ Ya did good, Ophie.  _

“Was,” She begins to ask somewhat anxiously, “Was that alright?” her audience, that is, is somewhat too quiet for her comfort. She know’s she’s no  _ expert  _ , but… she surely deserves a bit of praise for playing such a composition by memory, doesn’t she?

Maribelle sets down her cup and, in fact, claps her hands together in a mini applause. “My dear that is my  _ favorite  _ composition. Brady hasn’t even managed to master the pizzicato bars. I’m truly amazed.” She reaches out to gesture to the seat beside her at the table. One empty seat, that is. “Please, have some tea with us.”

…

Ophelia truly does want to return to Valla. She knows that her friends are waiting on her… but she hopes they aren’t too bothered. She knows that time is a fickle thing. When she returns to Valla only minutes will have (hopefully) passed.

It’s evening. Brady and Owain asked for some time to think about it, to talk it over. Helping her, that is. Ophelia had no choice but to give them that time. Shall she rush them? Of course not! She was raised to be patient and virtuous.

Although she must admit, the Chosen Ones can be  _ quite harsh  _ when it comes to sorting out decisions.

Ophelia passes the time by exploring the city of Ylisstol. A few people give her odd looks. Perhaps because she is unfamiliar? She doesn’t imagine she has made any sort of name for herself. She has no money, of course, but window shopping doesn’t bother her. She’s quite enjoyed window shopping with Forrest and Nina since she met them. The market is crowded, bustling, and in the distance she hears music.

One of the booths has fruits and produce and she has to admit, she is tempted… but she overlooks the booths so that she can explore the music. Street performers, she knows, are often the most incredible performers of them all. It sounds like a flute. Perhaps a pan flute, she realizes the closer she gets.

The performance is small. A woman dressed in sheer dancer’s clothes turns and spins. She is beautiful, with hair the same color as Soleil’s and a headband to match as well. She wishes she knew more about Soleil. Could they be family? Not far behind her, sitting on the ground and with his back comfortably against the wall, the pan flute music comes from a young man that doesn’t look like  _ anyone  _ Ophelia has ever seen. He wears a mask and he looks somber despite his peppy tune.

Ophelia stays a short while to watch, but eventually she thanks them and turns to leave. She has no money to tip them, but… well, she wonders if her fathers may be able to tell her more about them, one day. When they are set free. Yes, of course they will! Ophelia knows, she’s sure of it, that she will save her parents.

It is growing to be dark and that is Ophelia’s cue to return ‘home.’ In fact, it is her curfew at home with her parents anyway. Perhaps that is why she enters the house, Brady’s house, without warning. She simply  _ assumes  _ they are expecting her back promptly at nightfall.

They are  _ clearly  _ not expecting her back at nightfall.

It’s a simple sight. Owain is over Brady on his hands and knees. Brady is splayed under him on the sofa. They’re clothed, kissing, it’s… certainly unexpected but not the  _ most  _ offensive thing Ophelia has ever walked in on her parents doing. Although she’s certainly never walked in on them doing anything of the sort in the front room.

The sight only lasts long enough for Brady to process the sound of the front door. The moment he does it is incredible: he throws Owain onto the floor like he can pretend it never happened. “I—Ophelia?”

“I’m sorry!” Ophelia puts her hands up, nervously. “I’m sorry, should I leave? I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

“It’s fine! It’s—we weren’t…!” Brady’s face is bright. It must be painful to blush like that, but Ophelia finds it to be just a bit amusing. She shouldn’t be mad at them for being affectionate with one another. It is only another sign that they are meant to be happy together. Her parents are just a little better at hiding it when they are intimate.

Ophelia blushes too, of course. She has the decency to awkwardly clear her throat. “I’m sorry,” She repeats. Owain sits up on the floor and he leans his back against the sofa. He looks a bit shy, too… but perhaps more amused by the situation.

It’s embarrassing! Ophelia had no business walking in that door without knocking, she now knows, and she’s humiliated that she barged in like that. It’s jarring to have interrupted something so  _ intense  _ … but thankfully it was no more than kissing. That she could see, anyway.

“Don’t worry about it,” Brady says. Or, more accurately, he begs. He wants to let it die and live in the past, and Ophelia is happy to. That is, perhaps, one part of her dear parents that she does not want to think about.  “I—we saved you some dinner.”

It’s not a huge gesture, but it means the world to Ophelia. Brady and Owain even join her in the kitchen while she eats. It’s not something spectacular, only soup. It’s a recipe she thinks she’s had before. Maybe with some changes. She’s almost tempted to ask about it, but instead Brady interrupts her.

“We’re going to help you save your parents.” He doesn’t really look at her when he says it. He instead seems oddly focused on the grain of the wooden table.

“I..! Thank you so much, I promise you won’t regret this, I’ll do everything I can to make sure you come home safely, as well, I…” Ophelia can’t even think of where to begin. Owain waves his hand.

“Woah! Calm down. We’ll help you, but is there anything more you can tell us about this mystic mission?” He asks. It’s a fair question.

Ophelia sets her spoon down and considers it further.  _ Is  _ there anything else she can tell them? Quite frankly she isn’t sure. There’s so little she can say without potentially dissolving into a cursed dust. She folds her hands in front of her mouth like she’s saying a prayer.

She has to tell them  _ something  _ ! She would be devastated if they withdrew their offer to help her. Her eyes shimmer with unshed tears as she shakes her head. “I can tell you very little until we actually arrive,” She says. Her voice hitches. She doesn’t mean to cry, it’s just… “My parents have been enslaved by an unspoken enemy and I fear for their lives, as well as the rest of my world. I… I know it must sound impossible, but  _ please  _ … I need your help.”

Brady reaches out and lays his hand overtop Ophelia’s. She startles, almost flinches… but then she realizes he is trying only to comfort her and she looks into his eyes and holds in a sob. “You’re breakin’ character.” He hums, softly. Ophelia laughs a watery laugh and nods her head. Yes, she supposes she is.

“Don’t worry, Ophelia,” Brady says. He sounds confident. He sounds like  _ Evans,  _ for the first time since she’s known him. “We won’t let nothin’ happen to ya.”

…

“Woah!”

The first thing that Ophelia registers when the light fades from her vision is Soleil. She’s bright and confident and  _ very close _ . Although they have only just met for the very first time recently… well, Ophelia feels as if she has known her for her whole life.

Shigure said that there are hundreds of different worlds and realms colliding, and that each of them hail different variations. It must be terrifying, Ophelia thinks, to have been through so many different timelines that he no longer knows which is his own and which is not.

Soleil and Ophelia’s fathers are friends. She knows this to be true simply by name association. She feels so close to Soleil, though. She feels as though they were destined to be friends, tied by a red thread at the heart. Soleil gave Ophelia the stone that her father gave to her, so that she could use it to return from Ylisse when she found her parents.

“They’re like, babies.” Soleil admits. She looks Brady and Owain up and down and crosses her arms. They look at her like they’ve seen her before. Owain even opens his mouth, perhaps to mention it. He closes it, though.

Ophelia isn’t sure why. Still, now that they’re  _ here _ , Ophelia has a promise to keep. She stands in front of her new friends, her someday-parents. “Please,” she says, and there is no sense of wonder in her voice. This is very serious. “Never speak of this place outside of its boundaries. This is Valla, a cursed land. If you mention it to anyone when you are not standing in its territory, you will be spirited away into the afterlife. It is why I couldn’t tell you where we were going, and it is why you can never tell anyone where you’ve been.”

They share that silent glance again. Ophelia smiles, sadly. They’re probably nervous. Perhaps they think they bit off more than they could chew? “My parents, everyone’s parents, have been taken control of by the evil dragon, Anankos, and… we may have to face them in battle. I know that alone, none of us can face and defeat the chosen ones. I found you because… I know that you are them. You are our only hope!”

“Ophelia,” Owain says. He looks uneasy. Ophelia bites back her worry, but she tastes it in the back of her throat like bile.  _ Please don’t say no.  _ “Everything will be alright.”

Relief sweeps over her. “Yeah, Yeah,” Ophelia blinks. Dwyer. She’s known him a little longer than she’s known Soleil. His bangs cover part of his eyes and he shifts uncomfortably from one foot to the other. “Can we go back? I’m worried about Shigure.”

Ophelia closes her mouth and tries not to frown. They all come from different timelines, but she knows that she is connected to Soleil by a whim of fate. In that same regard, she is sure that Dwyer feels connected to Shigure. He took to him instantly, and Ophelia is sure the way that Shigure watched over him so closely had to mean something… especially when Dwyer is capable and strong on his own. He is very independent.

“We should go.” She agrees. They’ll win. They have to! How can they lose when they have a legendary sword master and a heroic healer?

…

The battlefield is nothing like Ophelia has ever seen. Her parents trained her to defend herself, of course, but never for this. Perhaps they meant to shelter her, forever. They did a good job of it. This landscape is crumbling. The whole area glows an eerie red. It’s hard to see further than a few paces because of the dust, the steam, the smoke, and simply the  _ magic  _ in the air. Dark mist rolls by her feet and Ophelia can’t even see where she’s walking.

It’s terrifying. There are swarms of soldiers. Ophelia starts out confident they can win, but her confidence slowly begins to melt away as she sees what they are meant to face. She was quite worried that they may encounter some, if any, of their parents. Mixed among the invisible soldiers, unfortunately, Ophelia sees many vaguely familiar faces. Perhaps people she has met in other timelines, in other lives?

In the distance, dry lightning cracks across the broken sky, but Ophelia cannot see the source. She doesn’t need to see it. She knows what her father’s magic looks like a mile away. His finesse, his power… she shudders. She can’t focus on that right now, anyway. She has to keep her guard up.

The invisible soldiers of Valla are difficult to see. There’s no light here to reflect off of them without spells, and so Ophelia expends a lot of her energy casting spells on nothing at all just so she can bounce light around and  _ find  _ her enemies. Brady calls out to her and she snaps her head to the side just barely in time to stumble away from one of them. Owain steps in past her and swings a sword at it, and it disperses into nothing.

“What  _ are these  _ ?” Owain murmurs under his breath. They’re nothing like anything Ophelia has fought before… so she can do nothing but shake her head. They’re like ghosts. Lifted spirits of the dead.

There’s a shout in the distance. A shriek, actually. Ophelia and Owain both turn to face the noise. “Soleil!” Ophelia shouts. Soleil stumbles, but retreats. She stays close at Ophelia’s side and startles when Brady reaches out to take her arm.

“Hey!” She shouts. Brady glances at her with a raised brow and a bit of an attitude. His hand shimmers with  _ healtouch _ , a spell he’s known as long as Ophelia can recognize… He’s used it to patch up everything from bruises to skinned knees but Evans has never mentioned how he came by it. It relieves some of the pain, Ophelia assumes. Soleil relaxes and holds her arm out for him, better, and he raises his staff to wipe the burn off her skin.

“Woah,” Owain breathes. Ophelia swallows but the knot in her throat isn’t eased at all. Soleil squeezes her hand and Ophelia barely even recognizes the friendly gesture.

Odin is  _ amazing. _ With each step he takes the dust and darkness beneath his feet gust up into the air. Sparks crackle off of his hands, and though he speaks no words at all Ophelia recognizes some of his most powerful lightning spells. He splits the darkness of the battlefield with ominous light that is, somehow, even inkier than the blackness before. Like his aura has somehow shifted from the peaceful hero to the malevolent fiend.

His eyes are glazed over, when he gets close enough to see them. Glazed and dull like he’s under a spell, and  _ he’s  _ not invisible, so surely he’s not a ghost. Surely this truly  _ is  _ her father. Ophelia bites her lip. She’s shaking like a leaf.

Owain reaches out and puts a hand on her shoulder. “Hey,” He says. It’s startling. His voice is so similar to Odin’s that when he speaks instead it seems wrong. “Don’t worry. We won’t let him hurt you.”

How can he be so brave? Doesn’t he see it? Odin is his future self! Odin is that much taller, that much stronger. He’s twice as filled out as his teenage self was and he’s all but dripping lethal magic. “Don’t kill him,” Ophelia whispers. Owain doesn’t question her, and that’s good. How can she explain it?

She can’t kill her own father. If he is dead, how can she possibly bring him back? If he is possessed he will need a body to come home to, won’t he? Ophelia takes back her hand from Soleil and she swipes away any tears with her fingertips. Papa told her it’s always okay to cry. Father told her that tears are for when emotions become so powerful they overflow. She isn’t ashamed of her tears, only that they may impair her.

Ophelia runs forward a few paces and her own spell cuts through his. White light flashes near his feet and he turns. He looks at her, his focus is right there. “ _ Father! _ ” She calls. She cups her hands around her mouth and screams it, really. Can he hear her? Is he in there? Does he know?

Her heart aches for every second he stares at her in silence. His eyes don’t shift to the soft look they always give her. He looks at her like she is just another roach to be crushed under his foot, and it hurts. How did this happen to him?

_ “I don’t want to go!” Ophelia screamed. Odin and Evans both flinched at her tone, but Odin curled her fingers tight around the shimmering stone he passed to her. She squeezed it but it did nothing to change her mind. “I want to help you defend our home!”  _

_ “You’ve gotta go, Ophie,” Evans urged her. He looked anxiously at the approaching enemies. He had seen them before, somewhere, Ophelia was certain. “Look, I’ve still got one of them stones too. We’ll follow ya after, alright? We’ll use ours to find you.”  _

_ “But what if you’re defeated! How will you find me if you die?!” Ophelia cried. Odin caught her both of her wrists, and he forced her to gaze into his eyes. Even full of frustration and worry, they were soft and kind and loving.  _

_ “Heroes don’t die. They live on forever! Make haste, Ophelia, and worry not! We will follow close behind you.”  _

He promised they would follow after her. How is he meant to do that now, when his body is a shell holding the soul of a monster?

It only takes a few moments of complete silence for Ophelia to make her decision. Odin Dark is not the one fighting her. Odin Dark is not silent. He is boisterous laughter and big, long hugs. Odin Dark is whimsical names for every attack and he is bedtime kisses but he is  _ never  _ silence. He is darkness unyielding, but he is also the very light that shines through it.

How dare this imposter stand before her? How dare this vile creature try to become what it cannot? “Fine.” Ophelia decides. Her fingers twitch at her sides. “Take heed, Owain! Brady! He is stronger even than he looks!”

“He looks like he’s gonna kill us,” Brady mutters from somewhere behind them. A bit farther behind, tucked not too far to aid them but far enough that he is likely safe from harm. If he is anything like Evans, he knows how to resist the ache of spells, Ophelia knows.

“Alright,” Owain offers Ophelia a sideways glance. “No killing him, right?” He asks. Ophelia nods her head. “At least I know some of my own weaknesses.”

Is that a joke? It must be, Ophelia thinks, because she refuses to believe that her father  _ has  _ weaknesses.

Ophelia practices magic and tomes of all sorts. Odin spent his life finding grimoires with runes and translating them and the two of them learned of spells the world over. He and Evans both taught her magic from lands she’s never heard of, from  _ their home lands  _ . Her magic is called luminary because it is somewhat different. Developed with the help of her parents it is something almost akin to  _ light  _ . It is bright like thunder and burns like flame. It cuts through the darkness.

More importantly, it does a good job of blinding or disorienting. Ophelia makes quick work of that, so that Owain and Soleil both can focus on attacking Odin. They’re careful. Their cuts hurt but they’re meant to weaken him, to bring him to his knees and end this.

With the help of Brady healing them, four against one works greatly in their favor. Ophelia was terrified at first, to see her father look at them as if they were only pests and not enemies, but it’s  _ working _ . Odin is clearly weakened, he’s breathing heavy. He’s  _ bleeding _ . He’s used up his own energy casting spells at them. This is working!

Working, that is, until a bright blue light wraps around Odin. The light washes over him and wipes him clean of many of his wounds. “What,” Soleil breathes. Ophelia bites hard on her own lip.

Very suddenly Owain yelps, and he dodges to one side. Ophelia has no idea what he’s dodging. She shrieks when her wrist is grabbed. Out of seemingly  _ nowhere _ , Brady yanks her to her left. A knife whizzes past her so fast she thinks he just saved her life.

_ Evans _ .

The onslaught of knives only stops because Evans pauses to continue healing Odin’s wounds. When he’s through he tugs another set of throwing knives from his pouch. Ophelia can’t forgive herself for not seeing him coming. He’s tall and usually so easy to spot in a crowd. Her Papa is always the first person she sees, the first person she runs to. She can admit he has never thrown knives at her before.

It’s somewhat alarming. She can see Owain visibly falter. Is it because he finds it strange to fight what is essentially Brady? He is older, of course. Perhaps two decades older, but he looks ever the same. Well… save that this  _ isn’t Evans _ . This is, like Odin, only a shell. Is her Papa in there? Does he know that he’s throwing poison tipped knives at his own daughter? Ophelia says a tiny prayer that he does not. She doubts he could live with himself.

Owain runs forward to fight again first. He’s bold. He makes to attack Evans and he is smart to do so. If he can eliminate his ability to heal it will make everything easier, won’t it? Ophelia’s mouth is dry. Soleil rushes to aid Owain. How can they be so bold?

“Ophelia,”

Ophelia gasps. She turns her head and she hates to admit that she almost forgot Brady was here, holding her wrist and grounding her. “P-Papa is,” She blurts, and then she shakes her head. “Brady it’s, he’s never…”

“That ain’t him,” Brady says. With great confidence! When he says it like that Ophelia knows he’s right. “He wouldn’t hurt you.”

He’d  _ never  _ hurt her. Evans is always there to heal away her injuries when she spars. He’s always the one who says to be careful and always the one who kisses away booboos. Ophelia bites her lip even harder. This is  _ impossible  _ . How are they meant to fight the Chosen Duo? Taking them on one at a time almost seemed feasible but this is too much.

“ _ Shit! _ ”

Brady’s grip on Ophelia’s wrist loosens. Probably because of Owain’s voice. He doesn’t exactly sound happy when he shouts like that. “Oh, no!” Soleil shouts, and she runs to pull Owain closer to herself. They have to retreat, and they are met halfway by Ophelia and Brady. Owain has a knife wedged pretty deep into his leg. It wasn’t thrown, that is clearly a stab wound. Why did Evans leave the knife in?

Ah, Ophelia realizes. “It’s poisoned! Don’t leave the knife in place!”

Brady will handle it. Soleil helps to set Owain on the ground and he already looks pale. Soleil steps back and puts her hands on her hips. Everyone seems to be struggling. Even when they defeat Evans and Odin, will they have to help cut down more of their own fathers? Mothers? Friends?

“We’re doomed,” Soleil mutters. Ophelia hates to hear that. She certainly hasn’t known Soleil long but she knows that isn’t the attitude she is meant to have.

“We are not doomed,” Ophelia murmurs back. She isn’t sure about it, but she says it anyway. She watches Brady with Owain.

He removes the knife as soon as he can, and the first thing he does is put pressure on the wound. Owain grumbles at him, complaints of the pain. “Why aren’t you just healing it?” He asks. Brady glares at him. Ophelia almost smiles, for a moment. She’s seen  _ that  _ look before, too.

“She just said it was poisoned, numbskull. I’ve got to get medicine in there before I mend your skin.”

It’s sweet, in a way. They already bicker the way her parents do. Like they’re already married or like they’ve been in love for years and years. This is only the beginning, for them. Ophelia turns to look back at her  _ real  _ parents. She will not let this be their ending. A love like theirs deserves so much more.

She runs. “Ophelia!” Soleil calls out and she gives chase.

She has only made it a few steps but she is already reciting words from her spells. She will  _ not  _ let this be the end. Her parents deserve the entire world. Her parents deserve to one day die heroes, not like this.

“Ophelia,  _ stop!”  _ Brady shouts at her. She can vaguely hear panic in his voice. She can hear  _ Evans  _ in his voice. The voice of a man whose little girl is running into battle. She almost expects to hear Owain shout at her, to tell her no, but she hears something different.

Owain cups his hands around his mouth and cheers for her instead. “I know you can do it!” He shouts “A princess of Ylisse commands power!”

A princess of Ylisse. Is that what she is? Is that what her brand truly means? Ophelia has never paid any mind to being called princess by her father here or there. She doesn’t pay it mind now. She doesn’t need to be a princess right now. She needs only to be the strong daughter she was raised to be.

She can do this. Her heart thunders in her chest. Light flashes around her. Her eyes tingle with a combination of tears and magic, it flows from her fingertips, her palms, all of her. Such a spell certainly catches the attention of Odin and Evans.

“Halt,” She addresses them. It is no longer their turn to be strong. They have been strong their whole lives for her, and now Ophelia must be the one who fights. They gave up so much to keep her safe. “Father, Papa, I had a premonition of this meeting before we ever arrived here. Though I wish they had, it would seem my precognitive skills have not failed me.” Her voice is low. She chokes on a sob but she is not ashamed. She is brave.

They are silent. They don’t speak and they do not look at her as if they are listening… but they are still while she addresses them. Perhaps they hear her? Perhaps her  _ parents  _ can hear her? She prays that they can, that they can forgive her for facing them like this.

“When we parted ways you told me that heroes don’t die, but Father I know that for the lie that it is. A hero only becomes a hero after passing on. They only attain their heroic stature after becoming a legend. You both promised me that we would be reunited, and now I see that it is my duty to ensure that is true. So I sincerely apologize, but I must inform you that you cannot become a hero, yet,” Ophelia swallows her tears and stands firm. She will not back down. “I won’t let that beautiful lie be the last thing you ever say to me!”

As if she expects them to speak, Ophelia pauses. They say nothing, and she takes a long, deep breath. She raises her arms, and her magic with them. “All right. Hark, O Shade! Ophelia Dusk releases you from the chains of the abyss! My numinous spirit quivers eagerly to meet my own parents in combat… So by the name and magic given to me, by them, I cast out the darkness from this place! I will cast the evil out of you!”

Her spell burns her own skin. Perhaps it is not a spell at all, anymore, but a magical embodiment of her own rage. How dare these spirits take her parents bodies from them? How dare this  _ Anankos  _ turn them into his puppets? Her tears, her anger, her sorrow… they come together in a flash of energy so strong she drops to her knees when it leaves her. It is no wonder that her targets collapse as well.

Did she kill them?

Ophelia stares at them, both of them. They’re both on the ground, certainly fainted… and it is only when she sees the very faintest rise and fall of their chests that she covers her mouth with her hands and begins to sob. She did it. She defeated her own parents, her own heroes.

Soleil drops to her knees and wraps her arms around Ophelia tight. “You did it,” She chirps. Maybe she means to be soothing? “I’m going to go help Lord Siegbert.” She adds afterwards.

When Ophelia stands it is on shaky legs. She turns to look over her shoulder and blearily she can see that Owain is back on his feet. He is momentarily occupied facing down a Hoshidan man. Ophelia does not know whose father that is… only that she wants to ensure her own parents are fine.

She moves closer to them and crouches so that she can shift them into a more comfortable position. On their backs they look almost like they’re sleeping, certainly not like they’re dead. They’re fine. Won’t they be fine? She can only pray, now. All of this is in Shigure’s hands, along with the twin Kanas and their divine weapons.

Brady crouches beside Odin, with her. He has more exposed skin than Evans, and so he has more obvious wounds. Brady checks him for anything that might prove fatal, and Ophelia is relieved that he deems him to be fine, simply fainted. Similarly he looks at Evans, patches up one wound near his chest just in case… but he is also fine.

Or, as fine as he can be when he is only a shell of a man. “So, this is us,” Brady hums while he talks. “Who knew Owain wouldn’t look half bad as a blonde?”

“No,” Ophelia croaks back, “My parents would never hurt me. These are their bodies, but they are void without their souls. Perhaps that they were not in their right minds is why we were strong enough to stop them.”

Her smile returns when Owain reaches out and shoves her shoulder. “Hey, they’re going to be fine. We’re going to beat this.”

Yes, Ophelia thinks. She is confident again. They’re going to defeat Anankos, certainly, and it is all thanks to them. Owain did so much more of the work than she did, after all, and Brady gave her the reassurance she needed to fight her parents. “I knew we would win with the help of the Chosen Ones!”

Owain’s head dips to the side. “You’re right, you know. Sir Brady and I did work tirelessly to aid you in this battle, but… You never needed us.” Owain sounds very confident. Ophelia glances at Brady and he nods his head in agreement. How can they mean that?

“But…”

“If you only needed the aid of a Chosen Hero to defeat them, Ophelia, you must know that power is already inside of you. The child of two star-crossed heroes? You are, no doubt, the strongest Chosen One of all,” Owain says. He softens his gaze into something that almost reminds her of Odin. Something almost paternal. It melts away quickly, and is replaced with an excited grin. “Besides, did you  _ see yourself _ ? You were  _ so cool _ ! You were amazing!”

Ophelia cannot hear him compliment her. Instead his earlier words buzz over and over in her ears. He called her a Chosen One. Can it be true? If her own father were to say it to her she might worry that he is only trying to comfort her, but… Owain has no reason to lie to her. He has no paternal bond with her. He barely knows her at all! If he believes it, it must be true.

Has she finally reached her dream of becoming a Chosen One?

Brady chuckles at the faces she’s making. He’s patching up the wounds on her arms and he’s very gentle about it. He doesn’t kiss any booboos like Evans but he nods his head in agreement with Owain. “Yer a pretty cool kid,” He says. When she first met Brady and Owain it was hard to imagine they were going to one day become her parents. It has only been two days, if that, but she’s sure now it is obvious. They are the Chosen Duo. They are her heroes.

She throws her arms around Brady, then, and hugs him tight. “I could have never done this without you two to guide me,” She says. Ophelia isn’t the wisest or the strongest or the best at anything, but she knows that if she ever is it will be because these two, her new friends, have saved her. Ophelia smiles wide when she hears Brady sniffle… but only moments later her vision goes white.

…

Ophelia’s head is pounding when she wakes up. She sits up and blinks and her vision feels hazy. Her whole  _ mind  _ feels hazy. She can remember  _ nothing _ . Ah, perhaps she can remember one thing: She can remember the feeling that her parents have been long gone, and that she misses them dearly. Panic sinks in. Where are they? She is about to jump to her feet and find out but she instead notices a hand in front of her face.

“Mornin’, Ophie.” Evans says. Ophelia gasps. He means to help her to her feet with his hand, but instead she pulls on him. He accommodates her by kneeling, and Ophelia throws her arms around his shoulders so tight she can feel him breathe. Why does she feel like she hasn’t seen him in ages? Tears spring to her eyes and she lays her cheek on his shoulder.

“I love you, Papa,” Ophelia murmurs with her cheek squished against him. Evans squeezes her tight and she’s  _ relieved _ .

“I love ya even more,” Evans promises. “I’m so proud of you.”

Proud of her? Ophelia can’t imagine what for. She did nothing to earn that, did she? Still, she feels warm and proud of herself too, for some reason or another. She casts her eyes up and she notices Odin. “Father!” She cries. Odin chuckles at her and steps closer. Ophelia leaves a kiss on Evans’s cheek and she scrambles to hug her father. “I missed you so much!”

“Ophelia Dusk, Chosen Maiden!” Odin grins and he kisses the top of her head. “I’ve missed you as well..? Your dreams must have been woven full of adventure.”

Her dreams? Ophelia thinks not. She cannot remember being asleep, let alone dreaming. She only knows that she is with her parents again, finally, and she is truly happy. Tears spring to her eyes but she wipes them away. Something isn’t right, her mind says. She has a horrible sense of déjà vu. Or perhaps of something else. Something forgotten?

“Father,” Ophelia’s brow knits and she steps back from Odin’s embrace. “Was I really just… sleeping?”

“Like a rock.” Evans answers, instead. “Go wash up now, we need to head into the market.” His voice is gentle, but she knows he wants her to hurry up. Ophelia sighs and nods her head.

“Alright,” She says, “I’ll only be a minute.”

It is only when she is long out of earshot that Evans sighs. “She don’t remember it.” He says. He steps closer to Odin and leans some of his weight into his side. After a moment, he reaches out and curls his fingers through his husband’s hand.

“It seems not,” Odin answers. “Perhaps for the better. I might rather remember it twice than she ever be plagued by that forsaken memory.”

“Ya  _ do  _ remember it twice.” Evans grumbles. “We were there twice. But it’s over now and if I can have it my way I’d rather forget entirely.” His grumpy face turns into a smile when he feels Odin’s lips press against his temple. Maybe he can will away the memories?

“A hundred timelines,” Odin muses, “And somehow she came from ours? It’s truly astonishing, when you think about it.”

“Yeah, yeah, super astonishing.” Evans says. “Ya think them kids got home okay?”

Odin and Evans woke far before Ophelia. Although Ophelia and the group of young heroes who saved the world promised to exchange their memories of this battle to save Shigure’s life, their memories were not affected. Nor were Owain and Brady’s... who were more than a little lost.

They thanked them. Their own past selves. They thanked them for saving them, for answering their daughter’s call to arms, and for helping Ophelia guide herself. Evans gave them his translocation stone, to send them back home. Odin begged them not to speak of where they were or what they had seen, with the risk that the curse may remain in effect in the past.

Brady and Owain went home, and Odin and Evans took their daughter back to  _ their  _ home. Odin scoffs. “Of course they made it home. When we were kids, we did, didn’t we?”

“Well, yeah,” Evans shrugs. “I guess we did. And then while I was reelin’ in the aftershock of it you thought it was an acceptable time to propose.” He snickers. “Mm still not lettin’ ya live that down.”

“It was romantic!” Odin looks offended, briefly, but then he brings Evans’s hand up to his lips to kiss. “The sun was setting, we had concrete evidence of a happy future… the timing felt very right. You were so happy you cried!”

“That ain’t sayin’ much.” Evans laughs. “C’mon  _ Owain _ , I think we ought-ta get ready ta head out.”

“Say it was romantic!” Odin argues. Evans starts to head in towards the house to check on Ophelia, no doubt. He was worried to bits about her. Odin was, too. Odin grins and chases after him, only to fall into step at his side. “I’m an excellent woo-er.” He argues. Evans laughs again. “I know you loved it.”

“Mhm, if you say so.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading!!!! Please consider commissioning me or supporting me on Patreon! You can find more information about both at http://www.dorkpatroller.tumblr.com


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